


I've Been Thinking

by ratb0ys



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Bottom Dale Cooper, Canon Compliant, Canon Dialouge, Canon Rewrite, Hand Jobs, Lap Sex, M/M, Office Sex, Twin Peaks Season 2 Episode 6, im sorry david lynch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:17:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratb0ys/pseuds/ratb0ys
Summary: After rescuing Audrey Horne from the clutches of Jean Renault, Agent Cooper can't stop thinking about everything that could have gone wrong. He asks Sherrif Truman to help.





	I've Been Thinking

**Author's Note:**

> hey folks, im e and this is my first time posting on here. i wrote this back in march while i was watching twin peaks and fixed it up to post. the title comes from the song I've Been Thinking by J Mascis. i hope you enjoy! kudos and comments are greatly appreciated.

Agent Cooper steps into his office without knocking. Formalities are unnecessary, and he’s in a hurry. Dale has got to speak to him. The sheriff stops thumbing through a book of headshots to look up at Cooper. “How is she?”  
“She’s through the worst of it,” replies Cooper, sitting down in the chair across from Truman. “Heroin, Harry. This close-” he holds up his thumb and index finger, “to a lethal dose.” The sheriff sighs and shakes his head, looking away from Cooper. “Hard to imagine such cruelty,” adds Cooper, softer, shifting his hands in his lap.  
Truman meets Cooper’s eyes and shakes his head. “Not really. Look at this.” Sitting up just enough to pass the book across the table, the sheriff taps on of the many mugshots on the page. It’s a picture of a frowning man holding a placard with an identification number. “Blackie’s killer,” says Truman. “Jean Renault.”  
Agent Cooper looks up at Truman, his expression shifting. “Renault?”  
The sheriff nods. “Oldest brother of Jacques and Bernard. Hell of a lot more dangerous. He runs the northern territories. Gambling, drugs, extortion, you name it.” Cooper sinks back into his chair. He’s thinking.  
Truman sits up- really sits up, feet all the way off his desk, and leans forward. He’s tapping Jean Renault’s picture again. “Now, I saw a tape on the TV in Blackie’s office,” He speaks slowly, keeping his eyes locked with Cooper’s. “Of you playing blackjack, the night you and Big Ed went to the casino.” Truman sees the agent’s eyes widen as he realizes what that means.  
“Jean Renault was after me,” states Cooper, pressing his lips together. Truman nods.  
“The man who caught his brother.”  
“He planned to kill me, and he used Audrey as bait.” Agent Cooper rises, placing his hands on the sheriff's desk to momentarily brace himself. He feels like he could fall over at any moment. He just hopes his voice doesn’t show it. “I went out of my jurisdiction. Twice. I violated my professional code, and now Audrey is paying the price.”  
The sheriff looks up at him and shrugs. “You got her back, and she’s going to be okay.” He doesn’t understand what’s wrong, what this could have meant.  
“Harry, this isn’t the first time my actions have brought suffering to someone I care about in the name of doing what I had to do.” Is he warning the sheriff? Trying to get a point across to him? Trying to reassure himself? The agent shakes his head. “Damn it, I should have known better.”  
“That doesn’t change the fact that she’s here now,” counters Truman, trying to calm Cooper, “and not up at Jack’s with a needle in her arm.”  
But Cooper doesn’t calm. His hands are shaking. He curls them into fists and presses them into the wood of the desk. He shuts his eyes and tries to breathe.  
“You know,” says the sheriff, placing a hand over Cooper’s fist. “You are the best lawman I’ve ever seen.” Agent Cooper opens his eyes to find Truman’s gaze sincere. “But, Coop,” he continues, running a thumb over the agent’s knuckles, “sometimes you think too much.”  
He’s right, of course. Cooper is no stranger to dreams, the unwanted that came in the unconscious. But he was no stranger to intrusive thoughts either. And those came during waking hours. He would often fall down a sort of rabbit hole in his mind, and thoughts, images, voices, would replay, distort, or sometimes come too much into focus. He was an overthinker, it was what made him so successful in his field. But it also lead, quite often, with the nature of his field, to panic and terror.  
This case, the case of Laura Palmer’s murder, had affected him so deeply. He couldn’t seem to understand why. Was it because of the grisly nature of the murder? Was it the way it affected the townspeople of this sleepy Washington residence? Was it the dreams and visits from the giant which he could not explain? Was it that it resounded within him in a way that it shouldn’t as an agent of the FBI- someone investigating the case, not enraptured in it? He’d spent many sleepless nights unable to get lingering questions out of his head. Even with an arm thrown over his eyes, the thoughts plaguing his mind couldn’t be blocked out. He thought too much.  
“Harry.” Cooper’s voice trembles. “Please.” He covers Harry’s other hand with his own and makes a request.  
“Help me stop thinking.”  
And with a nod from Truman, Cooper is in the sheriff’s lap, kissing him. Cooper’s hands cup both sides of Truman’s face. His thumbs run along cheekbones, his fingers rub earlobes, his palms rest on a jawline. Truman is doing his share of touching as well, with one hand firmly on the back of Cooper’s neck and the other resting on the small of his back, beneath his jacket.  
Harry Truman is a natural protector, it’s why he chose his position as sheriff. He has a town of 51,201 people to protect and serve. Tonight though, the one sitting in his lap and whining into his mouth is the one who matters most.  
Cooper pulls away from Truman, panting and flushed, chest heaving. “Harry,” he whispers. “Please. I want to feel you, only you. I don’t want to think about anything else. Just you and me, right here, right now.” His pupils are blown wide and his breath is hot on the sheriff’s face.  
“I was thinking the same thing, Coop.” Truman smiles and kisses up the column of his throat. “What can I do for you?”  
The agent whines at the brush of warm lips under his jaw and shifts in the sheriff’s lap, answering his question. The friction causes Cooper to whine louder and leads the sheriff to thread his fingers into the dark hair at the nape of Cooper’s neck and tug, exposing more of his throat and pulling even more obscene noises from him. Truman bites along the underside of the agent’s jaw and trails kisses down the side of his neck. Cooper’s head lolls to the side, giving the sheriff more room. But Harry wants much more than that. He hooks two fingers in the coat of Dale’s jacket and runs his thumb up and over Cooper’s adam’s apple.  
“Please, Harry,” Cooper nearly chokes out. “Take my coat off. Anything else too, take it off. I’m yours, Harry. Anything, anything.” Coop rambles as Truman’s hand leaves his neck and slides under his coat. He lifts his arms to help, but it tousles his hair when it comes off. Agent Cooper looks absolutely debauched. His immaculate hair is messy, his eyes are wide and glassy with pleasure, and his lips are wet and swollen. And Harry did that.  
The thought leads to Cooper’s shirt being hastily torn open, his belt being unbuckled, and his pants undone. Dale makes quick work of Harry’s belt as well, and soon Harry has a hand around both of them.  
Cooper sobs, arching his back and rolling his hips into the sheriff’s hand. He really did get what he asked for. Dale can’t possibly comprehend anything beyond the soreness of his neck and the hot grip Harry has on his dick. His brain wants to question whether or not Harry marked him, if there is anyone still left in the station, what would happen if someone walked in, but the sheriff’s hand moves and his mind whites out with pleasure.  
Harry jerks them off slowly, wanting to see Dale’s face as he falls apart. His eyebrows are knitted together, his eyes squeezed shut. Coop is panting and whining, his mouth having fallen open. His chest moves with his breaths. His hips buck into Harry’s hand. Cooper is absolutely ruined.  
Harry cards his fingers through Dale’s hair and tugs lightly. He watches the agent’s lips fall open as he moans. He looks gorgeous and messy, absolutely ruined. And he wants him to know.  
“So good, Coop,” Truman moans. “You look so good like this.”  
Dale opens his eyes to meet Truman’s, and before they’ve locked for a full second, Dale cups his face again and leans in for a bruising kiss. Harry slides his tongue along Dale’s bottom lip and Dale obediently opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. Harry’s hand quickens and Dale breaks the kiss to gasp for air.  
“Harry, I’m so close,” he sobs. “Harry, Harry, please. I’m so close, please, faster.”  
And Sheriff Truman is in no position to deny his agent what he wants.


End file.
